Vomit in a can

When you’re partying with your friend Kimberly, you may just decide to pick up two jumbo cans of booze at the 7-Eleven and decide to take them back to your hotel room for a little “post-party” involving booze and kettle corn.

And you might crack open those cans of booze (which might just happen to be Mike’s Harder Cranberry Lemonade) and TAKE A HUGE SWIG. . .

. . .and declare it to taste like a can of vomit.

Yes indeed, Mike’s Harder Cranberry Lemonade COULD taste a lot like ice cold vomit in a can.

You could be quite certain that if you drank that sour, puckering swill you would ACTUALLY VOMIT FROM IT.

But just to be sure, you might take a sip of it, just to see if it’s really as bad as you think.

And yes.

No doubt about it, time to delay the “post party” plans and pour the stuff down the sink.

At least you still have popcorn!

Drama! Oy!

I went to Summer Country music festival in the Sonoma County Fairgrounds this past weekend. And I must say, for not being a country music fan, I had a GREAT TIME.

My friend Kimberly WON the tickets on the radio ALONG WITH TWO NIGHTS STAY IN THE KITSCHY FLAMINGO HOTEL.

We had a blast.

You know how when you go to concerts there’s always some crazy guy or girl dancing like a maniac?

Well, I’m usually the person sitting RIGHT BEHIND that person.

So my entire view of the concert is distracted by the WILD GYRATIONS of the crazy dancer.

Not kidding.

This concert, I had a different experience.

I sat behind the couple breaking up.

And oh how I longed for the crazy dancer.

He was stoic. She was crying. They were arguing with each other in very loud voices so they could be heard over the music.

It was SO PAINFUL to watch.

Apparently, his ex girlfriend has been spending the night and he’s been cheating on her.

But he wants to marry her not the ex girlfriend.

It was all very dramatic.

I could’ve totally done WITHOUT IT!

It spoiled the music to have them yelling at each other right in front of me.

I thought of Burning Man, where nothing dramatic ever happens (cough) and I wanted to say to this couple, “My camp at Burning Man is a NO DRAMA camp and YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO CAMP WITH US!”

But that would of course go against the spirit of radical inclusion, so I said nothing.

Finally, they got up and left – with him trying to hold her hand and her yanking her hand out of his reach.

Drama!

Oy!

Save

Booty-Hanging-Out Shorts

This past weekend, my friend Kimberly and I went to the Sonoma County Fairgrounds to experience the weekend-long music festival Country Summer.

It was FUCKING hot.

I nearly melted into a puddle of sweat and self-tanner, it was that fucking hot.

John Michael Montgomery, who wears all black – black jeans, black longsleeve shirt, black cowboy hat, had to leave the stage and douse himself with water HE WAS THAT FUCKING HOT.

Needless to say, most of us festival goers dressed more appropriately, but I would like to bring up the titillating trend that I noticed at the festival – the tendency of women to wear cutoff jeans shorts with THEIR BOOTIES HANGING OUT!

You think I jest, here’s proof. . .

Yes indeed, a snapped a surreptitious photo of one of the more dramatic women I saw there.

I couldn’t help myself.

It was just there, like a mound of jello, waiting to jiggle.

And I kid you not, she was not the only one.

There were numerous women I encountered during the day whose booties were hanging out for all to see.

It’s takes a brave woman to let the whole world be your gynecologist!

Nevertheless, I’m a firm believer in “Flaunt it if you’ve got it.” So I heartily support this fashion trend.

It could be a lot worse after all.

They could be wearing these. . .

Stupid things I’ve done

Me in 2007 in Scotland (yes, with a blow up sheep). Natural tan.

God, I could write A BOOK SERIES about all the stupid things I’ve done.

Marrying a man for his looks instead of his brains was not the BRIGHTEST thing I’ve ever done (but I can’t regret the relationship that gave me my boys).

Also, my ENTIRE relationship with The Professor I could SKIP ENTIRELY. What a disaster!

And there was that time I lit the floor on fire in eighth grade. . .

But I digress. . .

One of THE STUPIDEST things I’ve ever done is lay in tanning beds to get tan for my trip to Scotland in 2007.

Oh vey!

I LITERALLY laid in tanning beds EVERY DAY for close to 4 months in order to appear bronzed and tan – just like a California girl.

Why I did this, I will never know.

I was going to Scotland, not the Bahamas, and no part of my body was really going to get exposed for the viewing pleasure of ANYONE under all the long sleeve shirts, jumpers, and jackets I needed to wear to stay warm in the frigid Scottish climate.

But I did it anyway.

And I had a lovely, dewy bronze tan for about 6 months.

Would I do it again?

Absolutely not!

It aged me. Damaged my skin, especially on my face.

And now I have to monitor my moles for potential skin cancer.

Remember, I USED to tan by laying out in the sun slathered in baby oil?

This was FAR MORE DAMAGING.

So take it from me and STAY AWAY FROM TANNING BEDS.

Do your skin a favor. . .

Self-tan!

 

Save

SoulFire 2016: The Shirtcocking Chronicles

Do you know what shirtcocking is?

It’s when a man walks around naked wearing nothing but a shirt (often an unbuttoned short sleeve shirt) with his peen hanging out underneath.

Shirt + cock = shirtcocking

Shirtcocking is tolerated with amusement at Burning Man and regionals.

It is thought that shirtcocking originates when a man wants to walk around naked (a perfectly acceptable past time at a naturist retreat) but he’s worried about burning his chest, back, and shoulders, so he puts on a shirt.

There was A LOT of shirtcocking at Lupin this past weekend.

Maybe because of the 95 degree heat.

The only thing to do was get naked and jump in the pool to cool off.

I went to the pool and saw a lot of peen this past weekend.

It seems like there’s always at least twice as many men as women at the pool.

But hanging out at the pool was great.

I love seeing body diversity – tall, round, short, squat, slim, and everything in between.

Of course as my friend The Blonde Goddess put it, “There’s nothing like being at a nude resort to make you feel fat.”

I had my issues, but I fought them and in the end had a wonderful time.

I’ve drunk my fill of naked men and women.

And those shirtcockers?

Well, I just let them shirtcock.

And giggled on the inside.

Here’s my picture of all the cocks that were shirtcocking:

bratwurst

SoulFire 2016: The Heatstroke Chronicles

white witch michelleMaybe it was just me.

Maybe everyone else did just fine.

But I managed to get myself good and overheated as well as dehydrated at SoulFire TWO DAYS IN A ROW!

Tejas and I arrived on Friday at 10 am and set up camp in the heat. Once camp was set up we drank rum and cokes until I started to worry that I wasn’t getting enough liquid so I drank 3 diet cokes.

Just a word of advice: Diet Coke DOES NOT PREVENT DEHYDRATION.

No it does not.

Because at about 9 pm after battling a dehydration headache for about two hours, I gave up and went to bed with 3 Tylenol RIGHT WHEN THINGS WERE GETTING GOOD!

I laid there, freezing cold, wanting a bed partner to snuggle with while I recovered.

But no, there were no bed partners to be found.

I laid in bed until about 1 am, then got up to party only to find that the party was winding down.

So back to bed.

Try again another day.

Cue Saturday.

I’m drinking TONS of coconut water to keep me hydrated and yet with the 95 degree heat I still manage to overheat.

Dante took me to the Restaurant to sit in air conditioning and cool down.

I was dizzy walking up the hill to the Restaurant (even though I was wearing nothing but pink ruffled panties and a crochet bikini fringe top).

There was an art exhibit going on in the Restaurant and I found that if I positioned myself just right I could stare at a picture of a dolphin while the vent blew cold air up my butt.

It was amazing!

So, lessons learned:

Diet Coke is not the same as water

Coconut juice will not prevent overheating

Do what you need to take care of yourself

However, if you fuck up (like me) then friends are so helpful when you’re not feeling well.

Love to Tejas for giving me Tylenol and love to Dante for cooling me down.

michelle and tejas

Sad Face

As it turns out, The Swede will not be visiting California in June.

Yes, I got the news today and was really disappointed.

But I had a feeling it was not going to work out.

Murphy’s Law.

I bought tickets to the burlesque show hoping he’d be here THERBY jinxing his visit.

C’est la vie.

I’m sure he’ll get over here again so all is not lost, but for the time being, NO VISIT.

What do I do with the two tickets I have to the Blackheart Burlesque show in Santa Cruz?

Why I take Yvonne, of course.

Tejas’ ex-girlfriend and I have struck up a friendship.

So I’m taking her to the show.

I can’t wait to watch the Suicide Girls prance about in their costumes, putting on a show for the audience.

It’ll be amazing.

Hopefully, I’ll be able to take pictures so I can blog about it (and send pics to The Swede so he can live vicariously).

Still, I’m sad I won’t be seeing The Swede anytime soon.

Sad face.

Rock climbing, scalping and norovirus

I took a trip to Eastern Oregon University with a friend of mine when I was in college.

We decided to go camping and rock climbing along with a bunch of her friends.

We all packed up our cars and took off to the Mountains – Mount Emily, I believe.

I’d never rock climbed before and, as it turns out, instead of rock CLIMBING I was learning to RAPPELL.

It’s what you do when you go DOWN the mountain at a generally fast rate of speed.

I hiked to the top of the mountain, stood precariously on the cliff as I got harnessed in. . .

. . . and I began to rappel down the mountain.

Not so bad.

All of a sudden I felt a hard tug at my head.

I stopped my descent immediately.

My long, free-flowing hair had gotten caught in the 8-ring.

The guys never thought to warn me about my hair because they all had short hair and it never occurred to them that it could cause a problem.

I quickly assessed that if I descended any further, I’d get scalped, at least partially.

So as I dangled on the side of a mountain, I held myself in place with one hand and I ripped out my hair with the other hand.

Meanwhile, one rock climber was harnessing up to decend on top of me to help while another climber was getting ready to scale the mountain to get to me to help.

I told them to stay and just give me time.

It seemed like it took forever to rip out that chunk of hair, but I did it.

As it turns out, the camping trip was somewhat doomed for me.

Not only did I rip out my hair, but I also got norovirus during my last day there.

You try having norovirus while camping.

It’s not pretty.

 

Actual pics from the trip:

 

Bottom right: me getting my hair stuck in the 8-ring!

 

Me with Eric Howard, who I crushed on all weekend.

 

Taking a break from ripping out my hair to flip off my friend Shannon, taking the picture.

Save

Save

Sneaking around naked

This may or may not have happened at Mercey Hot Springs:

After imbibing MANY gin and tonics with FRESH lime juice, an entire bottle of champagne, AND a few glasses of red wine, two women decided to sneak off to the “CLOTHING OPTIONAL” soaking tubs to take a dip in the hot water.

The hot tubs are empty and have to be filled with hot water for each user.

The hot tubs are also crawling with black beetles that have to be flushed down the drain BEFORE you can use the tubs.

So the women rinsed out their hot tubs, got rid of all the beetles, and filled their tubs with water.

Then they carefully removed their clothing, placed everything on a nearby chair, and stepped into their hot tubs to soak.

The water was hot and enveloping.

The night breeze was warm and relaxing.

One of them turned off their Coleman lantern so that they could see the lights from the stars.

As soon as the light went off, the women were cloaked in darkness.

The light from distant starts started to appear before them.

It was the Milky Way, almost close enough to touch.

So beautiful

So striking.

Before long, the women were joined by two other couples, who each snuck into their own tubs to watch the star show.

And then, one of the women started snoring.

She was sleeping in her hot tub.

Her friend, realizing it was time to take her back to the tent, rustled her awake.

“Time to go to the tent.”

In order to not put on a peep show to the light of a Coleman lantern, the women opted to wrap their towels around themselves and sneak back to their tent, hopefully avoiding staff.

The woman who was awake had a yellow towel and she wrapped it tightly around her body.

The sleepy woman did not do very well wrapping up her nudity. She was losing her towel right and left, so much that the other woman had to turn off the lantern lest they be seen in the light.

They carefully made their way, giggling loudly, in the dark to the campsite.

Home sweet home!

FLASHBACK – UnSCruz 2016: Day 2

IMG_9569Here’s a flashback to last year’s UnScuz:

 

The upside of camping at UnSCruz is that you get to party with your friends in one of the most creative and stimulating environments you can imagine.

The downside of camping at UnSCruz is that you may partake just a wee bit too much of the jungle juice and wind up with a wicked hangover the next morning. . . and the memory of taking a tumble on the grass in front of everyone.

Which is basically what happened to me.

Yes, too many vodka and lemonades for me made for a REALLY fun Friday night but a VERY somber Saturday.

I managed to drag myself around the fairgrounds with a friend on Saturday. We saw the sights – a guy with a baby gosling. A stegasauraus art car. We even visited the rose garden and saw a rose called (I kid you not) Ketchup & Mustard.

rose_Ketchup_And_Mustard IMG_9572

We even saw a derby race where pairs of people ran around a course, one with their arms tied around the others waist and the other wearing a horse head which effectively blinded them from seeing where they were going. Great fun, btw!

But I was flat.

Deadpan.

I was barely making it from one step to the next.

My head was ringing.

I was determined not to let anyone see how hungover I was.

Silly girl needs to watch her liquor intake!

Finally, after sampling a little of my sangria at Mist’R Cool’s potluck, I begged off the evening’s activities.

I climbed into bed, put in my earplugs, slipped myself two ativans, and crashed in my tent trailer.

Not exactly the illustrious ending to my camping trip I was hoping for.

Next year, I will be better company.

I will drink beer instead of vodka.

And I will dance til the sun comes up.

Just saying. . .

Save

Save

Save